


Apple Pie Life

by sebviathan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Deathfic, Established Relationship, M/M, Omnipotence, Post-Series, Present Tense, Sort of? - Freeform, even the sex scene is sad, intense angst, misleading title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebviathan/pseuds/sebviathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-series: Dean makes it his dying goal to find the perfect pie, now that they've all given up on the life of a hunter. </p><p>"Kind of funny, isn't it. That after all the demons and angels and monsters, I end up getting killed by a little tumor in my head. I guess I'm only human after all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apple Pie Life

  


([Listen to the soundtrack](http://8tracks.com/captainlucifer/apple-pie-life))

* * *

 

Though for a time none of them really expected it to happen, everything does come to an end, and much sooner than they ever thought. Too much blood and tears are shed in the process, but Dean and Sam do manage to complete the Trials without either of them dying for good, and Metatron is defeated.

For the first time in such a long time, life on earth is peaceful. And Sam, Dean, and Cas have no idea what to do with themselves. At first, anyway. Dean will tell you that the quiet, apple pie life was never meant for him, and that he could never keep a life like that even if he really wanted it. He'll give you Lisa and Ben and all the shit that happened to them as reference, and then he'll glare at you like that's all the argument he needs and then walk off.

But he does enjoy the peace, as much as he lies that he would prefer that they at least still had  _some_ demons to go after. Sometimes he makes vague suggestions that they could all go hunting after some of the  _non_ -demonic creatures that are left after the End, but Cas gives him a bottle of beer and invites him to sit on the couch and watch crap television with him instead, and he gives up the thought.

Sam is by no means silent about how glad he is that he is no longer obligated in any way to remain a hunter. He never  _really_  bought into the whole "Once a hunter, always a hunter" thing anyway, but now he knows for a fact that he's perfectly safe giving up the life. If Dean's doing it, there's no reason he can't.

Dean tells his younger brother that he ought to go find someone to love and be with for the rest of his life now that he actually  _has_  the life to do so. Sam tells him, "Not until  _you_  take what's right in front of you." And Dean knows exactly what he means, but he just frowns and walks away and doesn't bring it up again for a few days.

None of them really know why it takes so long. Five months feels like forever now that there's nothing but the daily life and domestic duties in their bunker, and it's forever between Dean and Castiel before the former finally stops being an enormous baby about this kind of thing. Then again, Cas finds it acceptable because he used to be able to see Dean's soul, and so much of what he saw was a fear to love.

When Dean finally kisses Cas, Sam is ready at the threshold with a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Everyone is pretty sure that Sam's been looking forward to this almost more than anyone else.

And because Dean is not fixed quite yet—because of the nightmares that he (as well as Sam and Cas) still has and the fear of his feelings being unreciprocated that he can't get rid of, he doesn't let himself pursue more than kissing. And Castiel is fine with that because even now that he's completely human and has been for over a year, his urges don't go beyond what Dean wants.

They can't get enough of kissing, though. It's as though they feel the need to make up entirely for the four years that they  _weren't_  kissing, as Sam comments one day that he finds them practically eating each other's faces off in the kitchen. Dean doesn't deny it because he's becoming less and less afraid to be honest about his feelings.

He and Cas end up disgustingly domestic with each other, and it's enough that Sam finally feels the need to leave the bunker and go find a woman or man of his own, just to get away from them. Of course, that leaves them more time alone to be as gay as possible without worrying about Sam knowing. Any time that Sam's not around (which generally just means not in the room), Dean spends it talking to Cas, kissing Cas, and cuddling Cas before and while they sleep.

Dean is, in every sense of the word, happy.

Still, though, all he and Cas have done is kiss. His hands haven't gone further south than Cas's waist. And not even a year since the peace began, Dean begins kissing Cas less and less—purely because he begins getting frequent headaches and starts needing more rest.

For a while, they all think that it's just late side-effects from everything the life of a hunter has done to him. And that seems like an entirely reasonable explanation, so Dean doesn't doubt it. He sucks it up and powers through the strange pulses of pain in his head and tries not to show the physical pain.

But eventually, after much goading and finally the agreement of Sam, too, Cas convinces him to schedule a doctor's appointment to see what's wrong and hopefully get some medication to help the pain go away. On the way there, Dean jokes that they're probably just migraines from him getting old.

The doctor at the office tells him that she can't determine any outlying symptoms and refers them to the nearest hospital so they can get some actual X-rays done. Dean is the only one who isn't immediately more worried. Or at least he pretends not to be.

None of them like being in hospitals anymore, and they all squirm uncomfortably in their seats while waiting to be told the room where Dean can get an MRI scan. Dean hates having to lie perfectly still for so long, and he jokingly tells Cas that he wouldn't mind turning out to have cancer if he could just get off of that thing sooner.

The doctor who examines the scans once they're done is horribly sorry to inform them that Dean has a brain tumor that can't be treated. All he can do is prescribe Dean morphine and other medication to help the pain go away while he waits to die.

Sam is trying his best not to shake or cry, and Cas is heaving dry sobs into Dean's shirt. Dean keeps one arm tight around him and doesn't let go (as though Cas would ever let him go), and he nods at the doctor as though he's merely agreeing on the price for a house.

"How long?" he asks, his throat surprisingly not dry.

"About eight months," the doctor sighs. The apologetic tone seems faked. "You'd generally want a hospital room to keep you properly cared for around six months—"

"I'll be fine on my own, thanks," Dean tells him gruffly. "My family can keep me ' _properly cared for_.'" He takes the prescription paper from the doctor as soon as he can and leaves the room with Sam and Cas.

Once they're on the first floor of the hospital and nearly out the door to the parking garage exit, Dean takes Cas by the face and kisses him softly, making a point of kissing all his tears away. He doesn't care who's staring—he just doesn't want to see Cas so upset, and none of them have said anything since leaving the MRI room so he doesn't know what else to do.

"Are you okay?" Dean asks him as he pulls their lips apart and carefully presses their foreheads together. His voice is so quiet that he's pretty sure Sam, standing three feet away, can't hear it.

Cas makes an effort to stop crying, but still chokes on his voice for several seconds.

"No," he answers simply, and Dean accepts that answer without saying anything else.

Sam actively lets Cas ride in the front seat of the Impala on the way home, and the look Dean gives him before getting in the car seems to ask the same thing:  _Are you okay?_

The younger brother shakes his head and struggles to keep his tears inside while Dean drives out of the parking garage and away from the hospital. Honestly, they all feel significantly better once they're back on the highway.

* * *

"Here, give me the prescription and I'll get the medicine," Sam tells him quietly once they're back at the bunker. Dean does so without hesitation because he knows exactly why Sam's offering. He has no desire to stand there, alone or otherwise, and have the pharmacist look at him sadly once he slides over the prescription paper. It would be obvious, even without the prescription, to look at him and Cas and know that one of them was dying. But it would be impossible to tell who.

Dean and Cas are left alone again, but there are no kisses between them.

"Kind of funny, isn't it," Dean can't help but say with a slight chuckle as he sits down on the edge of the bed with Cas. "That after all the demons and angels and monsters, I end up getting killed by a little tumor in my head." He smirks and looks over to Cas, who looks hopeless and frustrated, trying not to smile at what Dean just said.

When Cas says nothing, Dean just says, a bit quieter, "I guess I'm only human after all."

The man next to him still can't bring any words past the lump in his throat, so Dean covers his hand with his own and squeezes tightly. He can't help but smile a little again, now at the fact that  _he's_ the one who needs to comfort Cas.

For a week, Dean deals with it by not dealing with it. He takes the medicine to get rid of the headaches but doesn't ever talk about it or take it in front of anyone else, like he wants to act like the medicine isn't even there. The closest he gets to talking about the tumor is making jokes that just make Sam and Cas feel awkward—and he  _knows_  they make them feel awkward, but it's better than everyone feeling sad.

Basically, he just pretends like there's nothing out of the ordinary. Dean goes about his day the exact way he would have without the visit to the hospital, and he ignores the new, more careful behavior that Sam and Cas are exhibiting. They realize what he's doing, though, and try to play along.

He still kisses Cas several times a day, and now the former angel's kisses are a bit deeper, a bit more urgent than usual. Like he's trying to make use of their time as much as he can. Dean's fine with that because as much as he's trying to pretend everything is normal, he wants to do that too.

If they all just forget what the doctor said, Dean supposes, then everything will be fine. What's the point in worrying about something that won't come for eight months, anyway? It's just like the year before he was dragged down to Hell all over again, except there's no one who can pull him out of this one, and Sam isn't bugging him about it and getting angry at him at every turn. Because this time, it's not his fault.

Dean's plan works for that week, and everything feels fine. Until Dean tells Cas that they need to go shopping and Cas finally snaps and jerks around to face him almost angrily.

"Would you quit this?" he says louder than he means to, his voice more sandpapery than usual.

Dean's alarmed on the inside but chooses to act oblivious. "Quit wha—?"

"Acting like you're not dying!" he sputters, louder this time and choking on his words. "We all just found out that you don't even have a year left and you're just going on like everything's normal and  _I can't do that_ , Dean!"

He considers, for a moment, trying to stay calm, but then his emotions get the better of him.

"And what do you expect me to do, just mope around and wait to die?" he shouts back, angry now. "You and Sam are depressed enough about this, and I'm not going to make it worse by acting like it's the end of the world again—"

"It  _is_ ," Cas presses, suddenly the shell of a broken man. "I don't want you to be sad all the time, but you can't just pretend that you're fine when your brother and I are dying on the inside and  _you're_  dying on the outside... Are you  _content_  with dying?" Cas adds, quiet.

"Fuck, Cas—no!" Dean says desperately, shifting uncomfortably where he stands. "No, I'm not. I don't want to die and leave you and Sam all alone—but I can't do anything to stop it, can I? I have my little slice of peace here with you, and just because it turns out to be shorter than I expected, doesn't mean I'm not going to enjoy it."

Dean holds his gaze and indirectly forces Cas to do the same, and they're both silent for what feels like a long time.

"...Is there anything you want to do, then?" is what Cas finally says, feeling like his voice doesn't belong in the silence.

"What?" Dean just frowns at him.

"With your life. What's—what's left of it," he tries not to choke, and he surprises himself by sounding relatively calm. "Is there anything you want to do before you die?"

Honestly, Dean never really thought about it. All he's ever really wanted out of his life was to find and kill the demon that had killed his mother—checked that one off a long time ago—and to protect Sam. And now with the gates to Hell locked for good, there's pretty much nothing left for him to do.

So he thinks about it. Cas watches him intently as he looks down and thinks hard about what he'd  _really_  like to spend the last months of his life doing, what he might regret not having done after he dies.

It's hard to think of anything that's important to him that he doesn't already have, but he doesn't give up—he knows this is a serious thing he needs to ponder. It's important to Cas that he doesn't waste his last eight months, so it's important to him.

"I... I want to find the best pie recipe ever," he finally says, looking the other man dead in the face. Cas just stares, and Dean nods to himself, deciding that yes, this is exactly what he wants to do, and he's not changing his mind. "I—yeah, aside from you and Sam, and not including anyone who's not alive anymore, the only things I care about are the Impala, Dr. Sexy, and pie. So what I want to do—the thing I want to accomplish before I die is find the most delicious pie recipe out there."

Dean finishes there, and there's a sense of finality that actually feels good, and  _finally_ , Cas smiles at him. It's not a sad smile, either.

"Okay," he agrees, nodding slowly. "We'll do that. But, uh..." He sidles closer to Dean and, one by one, wraps his arms around his neck. "Are you sure you don't want to make your goal meeting Dr. Sexy?"

At that, Dean does that smile that makes crinkles around his eyes and lets out a hearty, genuine laugh. "Nah, I... think I'm good." He remembers the day that he technically did meet Dr. Sexy, who turned out to be Gabriel in disguise, and he doesn't think he'd be able to keep from thinking about that while meeting his actor. And even if he would, Cas might get jealous from him getting so giddy around the guy.

Both of them lean in at the same time, and their mouths come together in a full kiss that feels entirely void of sadness on either side.

* * *

They tell Sam about their idea, and the younger brother actually looks and feels relieved that Dean's finally stopped pretending to be okay.

"I want to come with you," Sam tells him, but before he can say any more, Dean shakes his head and stops him.

"You got a life here, Sam. If it weren't for me, you'd be out and living with that girlfriend you—"

"But you're my brother, you're more important—you've said so yourself plenty of times. Family comes first."

Dean swallows, drops his shoulders, and looks over to Cas, who has nothing for him. "Yeah, well maybe I've been thinking a little differently lately."

"...So you don't want to spend your last few months with me?" Sam finally asks after staring between them in silence for a minute.

"Of course I'd like to!—but I don't want  _you_  to waste nearly a year with a dying man when you have actually got other people who care about you and would miss you if you up and left. I want you to live the life that you had before I showed up at your apartment eight years ago... before I got back from Purgatory."

More deadly silence, and Sam's voice when it finally breaks it is like a boom. "You'll come back and visit, won't you?"

Dean smiles and steps forward to hug his brother. "Of course. I'll call, too."

Later, when Sam is no longer in the room with them, Cas looks straight at Dean and doesn't hesitate to say, "I'm coming with you. And I don't know if you're going to argue, but if you plan to, I  _don't_  have anything here. There is  _nothing_ more important to me than you."

And of course Dean knows that because of every time that Castiel has ever told him that everything he's done has been for him, but it still makes him significantly happier to hear him say it.

"Good, 'cause if you didn't wanna go, I was gonna drag your not-so-feathery ass into the trunk and take you with me," he smirks, and Cas's responding smile makes him forget that he's dying.

Of course Cas has to be with him. The way that Dean loves Sam is that he just needs his little brother to be safe and happy because those are the responsibilities John drilled into his brain when he was just a kid—but with Cas, he just  _needs_  him. He needs Cas near him, and he needs to hear his voice and be able to reach out and touch him.

"So... when are you guys leaving?" Sam asks later that day, a nostalgic sort of curiosity in his eyes. As though he's already accepted that they're gone even though they aren't quite yet.

"Tomorrow," Dean supposes, figuring that they ought to get a move on and utilize as much of their—his—time as they can. He looks to Cas questioningly and gets a nod of agreement, and then they both look back at Sam. "Why, you wanna kick us out that bad?" he then jokes, and both brothers grin and laugh.

"Yeah, I'm tired of walking in on you two eating each other's faces off in every room of the house," Sam laughs in return, surprised to find it so easy to joke about this, now. He guesses that Dean's really always been right, and pretending a problem isn't there kind of  _does_  make it go away. For the time being, at least.

"I'd be concerned if you weren't."

Later, when they pack (and even though it's been a year, Dean still feels weird not packing more than one gun), Cas looks up from the pile of clothes he's sorting through and asks him, "What kind of pie are we looking for?" Dean just looks at him and frowns questioningly, so he explains. "I just realized—we have to choose one specific flavor of pie and find the perfect recipe for that one flavor. Otherwise the 'perfect' pie will be chosen partially on bias for one flavor over—"

"Yeah, yeah, I getcha," Dean cuts him off, though smiling in amusement over Cas getting technical. He doesn't think he'll ever get over that. "Um—" It really doesn't take him very long at all to decide, but he feels like getting the shirt in his hands folded and set down before he finishes answering. "Apple pie. Definitely. It's my favorite." He nods to confirm it to himself and then looks back at Cas, who smiles.

"Then we're looking for the best apple pie ever. Well—in America. Unless you want to go to other countries—?"

"No way—the best apple pie is  _obviously_  going to be in America anyway," Dean counters, not even halfway joking. "Apple pie is the symbol of America, man."

"Actually, apple pie has been around since the fourteenth century, and apples themselves originate in the middle east—"

"Cas," is all Dean says, in monotone and an expression pretty much telling him to stop—and as usual, it works. And then they both smile and finish packing.

* * *

It feels unreal to get in the Impala and drive off and know that they're not just going to the store and coming right back. But Dean knows what he's doing, and Cas wants to do this just as much as he does, and they've both hugged Sam goodbye and made it final. They're doing this.

"So," Dean finally says after a few minutes of driving. "We haven't exactly planned this out perfectly. Are we just stopping at every diner and bakery we can find and telling them my sob story in hopes that they'll give us their recipe?"

Cas inhales and thinks for a moment. "Well, we could start with doing some research so we're not just, uh... living on a prayer."

The Impala is entirely silent but for the rumbling of the engine, and then Dean groans and laughs at that awful, wonderful use of reference. "Yeah—let's start with that."

Coincidentally, the radio station he turns to is playing Bon Jovi.

An hour later, they find themselves in a small restaurant in Overland Park (Dean wanted to wait until he was hungry before stopping, and without Sam around, it's suddenly much more difficult to find places with free wifi), and Dean pulls out his laptop as soon as they sit down. Rather than sitting across from him, Cas insists on sitting side-by-side

"Do you think you're unlikely to find anything in an actual library?" Cas asks, leaning over and watching Dean type.

He frowns, not knowing whether Cas is trying to be sarcastic or not. "Last I checked, libraries don't usually have a 'nationwide best food' section, so." Just as he types  _America's best apple pies_  into Google, a waitress comes up and asks what they would like to drink.

They both say "Coffee" at the same time, and the waitress— _Jennifer_  is the name on her tag—gives them that smile that everyone always makes at them when they do anything remotely couple-y in public. As she walks away to get their coffees, Dean presses enter on the search and Cas sheepishly picks up the menu. Really, he's just checking to make sure they have burgers.

The Google search brings him to a couple lists of documented (apparently) well-known apple pies, so he grabs a napkin from the holder and looks around a moment before Cas hands him a pen, not even having to ask him what he needed.

"...Did you actually just have this with you?" he asks, amused and slightly confused.

Instead of looking embarrassed at all, Cas nods and pulls three more out of his jacket pocket. "I thought it would be best to come prepared."

The waitress walks up with their coffees just as Dean leans in quickly to kiss him, and he's really glad that he only went in for a peck because otherwise he'd be blushing twice as hard as he is and they'd have an extra-giggly waitress on their hands.

She seems to think it slightly odd that Cas orders a burger since it's barely even eleven o'clock, but of course she's obligated not to say anything, and Dean's about to order a breakfast sandwich when he thinks to just say—"Um—do you have pie?"

It turns out that they do, and Dean takes one bite of their apple pie before deciding that it's not remotely close to being even one of the best he's had. But he eats it anyway because hey, pie is pie, and he's not gonna waste food that he paid for even if he didn't exactly get the money for it honestly. By the time they leave, Dean has a list of about twenty different bakeries and restaurants, and he's holding it in his hand as they walk out.

"You think any of those have the best apple pie ever?" Cas asks him, putting an arm around Dean's waist and leaning over to look at the list.

Dean switches the list to his other hand, pushes the door open, and puts his right arm around Cas's back. "Maybe. Who knows, maybe the best apple pie recipe ever belongs to some old lady living in the Everglades and only her family knows about it, or maybe some housewife in the fifties made it and had it buried with her. But this is a good place to start."

* * *

It's almost like being back on the road with Sam, except he's only with Cas, and they're not hunting anything anymore. Dean sort of misses hunting in a nostalgic way, and he half-hopes that he'll catch wind of something that sounds suspiciously like werewolf or wendigo killings, or a haunting, or anything else supernatural that wouldn't have been shut down by the lack of Hell's or Heaven's influence. Just to be able to save someone one last time.

But they gave up on that life once the world ended and got fixed for the fourth time around, knowing that the rules of "once a hunter, always a hunter" no longer applied. There was just no reason for them to keep risking their lives for other people, and there still isn't, but Dean really _still_ believes that he's just meant for that sort of thing. He is and has always been a hunter at heart, even now that he's looking for a pie instead of any monsters.

Cas catches him looking at newspapers and searching for freaky accidents sometimes, and Dean doesn't even realize he's doing it until Cas says his name and looks at him somewhat sadly.

Aside from hunting, Dean just likes being on the road nevertheless. He likes being a drifter—so what better way to spend his final months on earth? He gets to be himself with the man he loves and prepare exactly the way he wants to for when he dies. How many other people are lucky enough to get to do that?

They create a road map with strategic stops at all the places on Dean's list and hit up a few random diners in between. Cas goes out to convenience stores when they stop at motels and doesn't forget to get the pie, and even though it's gas station pie, Dean loves it because it tastes like memories, and, well. Pie is pie.

There's a famous bakery in Chicago that really doesn't live up to their reputation, and Dean doesn't even bother giving that apple pie a rating.

"Eugh, they're just—I'm pretty sure they're focusing way too much on appearance and health. It's missing all the traditional stuff," he tells Cas not-so-quietly at their table, earning some dirty looks from the owners. "This is  _rich people_  pie."

Most others do make it to a rating, though. In a couple weeks of traveling it's often "Meh, I've had better," or "S'good, but not excellent." But then a couple, and as Dean guessed it's two small-town bakeries, make him go wide-eyed and feel the need to kiss Cas right there. Which, of course, he does. With those, he and Cas will approach the owner and tell them that they're looking for the best apple pie ever, and ask if they might be willing to sell them the recipe.

Dean doesn't mention the fact that he's dying because he doesn't want their pity, and Cas realizes this and keeps his mouth shut, too.

Most people that they end up requesting a recipe from politely refuse, but one woman almost seems to be able to tell Dean's exact situation and gives it to him free of any charge.

The routine is driving, a pie every other day or so (because Dean'll get sick of pie otherwise), and spending nights in motels. They kiss until they fall onto the bed together and then fall asleep curled up in each other, and some mornings Dean will call Sam just to tell them they're alright, and they kiss again when they're back in the car.

They talk like finding the perfect apple pie is the most important thing, the  _only_  thing, and drive until they both forget Dean's dying and stop when they're hungry or when they've reached a destination they've planned for. Or one that just looks like the kind of place that would have excellent pies.

When Dean stops at a gas station, Castiel knows what that means and nods, and he goes inside the store to get a case of beer so he doesn't have to watch Dean take his meds. He never had to tell Cas for him to understand this—just once, he stopped the Impala without saying anything and with a pained look on his face, and he pulled the bottle out of his jacket pocket and locked eyes with Cas, who promptly left the car.

Cas gets the feeling, after the first month, that Dean has stopped taking his meds because his headache doesn't appear to go away after their almost daily stops at a gas station. He doesn't say anything at first because he knows why Dean's doing this, but it comes to the point that he has to.

It's night, and it's a country road so luckily there's not much danger in their way, and Dean looks like he's in extreme pain. If he looks carefully, Cas can see tears of frustration budding at the bottom of his eyelids.

"Do you want me to drive?" he asks, concerned, and Dean doesn't even look at him.

"Nah, it's fine," Dean grunts out. But it's clearly not fine and he knows it.

Cas is silent for a second, still staring at him, thinking of what he should say. "...Dean, please stop the car and let me drive. It's—"

"I know what it is, alright?" he shouts, his head shooting over to Cas once and his hands slamming the steering wheel. "We're only twenty minutes from the nearest motel, it's  _fine_ , I can do this." His voice comes out as a growl and he really doesn't mean to sound so angry, but the pain in his head is almost literally making him blind, and he can't help it.

"At least stop to take your—"

" _No_ —would you just give it up for now?" Dean growls, surprised, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he hasn't swerved off the road yet. "I'm not going to be reliant on some medication just because I've got a little tumor in my head, not when I have seven more months left—!"

" _Dean!_ " Cas puts his foot in the driver's footspace and slams on the break both out of safety reasons and because he just needs everything to stop. He pulls the lever into  _park_  and grabs Dean's shoulder harshly. "You have a migraine, now just take the damn pills! It's not weak of you to take medication when you need it, and you've been doing it for weeks so I don't see what the problem is now! Are you trying to get yourself killed seven months early?"

Dean just stares at him, hands looking like they're looking for something to clutch onto and his eyes wide open with tears falling freely, now. Cas can barely see them in the dark, but he can see that Dean looks angry and hopeless and broken all at once. And he's shaking. And he just stares.

"You're... not, are you?" Cas asks slowly when Dean says nothing, his voice breaking momentarily. He still doesn't respond but for a shaky breath. "Dean... Dean, do not do this to me." Cas is shaking now, too, and he tightens his grip on Dean's shoulder. "We still have so much time left, and there's still the perfect apple pie for us to find, and I can't go  _on_  without you."

And then Dean's reaching forward and clutching Cas's shirt like it's the only thing that'll keep him from falling, and he's crying from the pain of his headache and from the pain of everything else, and Cas is holding him tight around the back and running a soothing hand through his hair and trying to kiss away the pain.

Dean's mumbling something and it sounds like "'M sorry I yelled at you, I just...," but neither of them can really be sure what it is, and it doesn't matter. At some point, Cas reaches into Dean's pocket and gets two pills for him, which he swallows dry, and Cas drives the rest of the way to the motel.

* * *

Dean's list of ratings for specific pies get longer, and the trips they take to bakeries gradually get farther and farther apart. Four months into the roadtrip, and Dean still feels like there's something missing from all the apples pies he's tried. But that's okay because he still has half of his time left, and they've gone back and visited Sam once, and honestly, the trip has become more about he and Cas spending all the possible time they can together before—

No. They don't talk about that.

They don't talk about the tumor but for when Dean needs more medication for the headaches, and Dean tries to forget about it altogether if he can help it. He knows the way Cas looks at him when he's not looking, though. And he tries to ignore it.

Sometimes, whether they've gotten a pie in that town or not, Cas asks if they can just stay there for a few days—usually it's because of the scenery or because this particular city has a museum he wants to visit, or because there are just a lot of nice roads that he wants to walk down with Dean and hold his hand. And Dean always says yes without thinking because he loves Cas and he knows that just because he's dying doesn't mean everything is about him.

There haven't been enough times that they've been able to sit on a park bench with scarves and coats on and just press their cold lips together and not care what anyone thinks—and it wouldn't matter anyway because they're in the northern states where everyone is liberal. Dean wishes that they'd done more of this before, or that they'd done it at all before the gates of Hell were closed for good.

And on those small vacations from perfect-pie-hunting, they still get apple pies wherever they can and eat them together. It's the best when it's late November and pretty much everywhere but California and Arizona is freezing cold, and a warm apple pie is the best thing to warm them up.

Once, while they're in Montana and Dean can't even remember the name of the city they're in, a young woman approaches them while they're drinking hot chocolate outside of a cafe and asks them if she can take a picture of them.

"You two are just about the happiest couple I've ever seen, and you've got the kind of faces that are just perfect for photography," she explains when Dean stutters out a " _Why_?", smiling. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to post it on the internet? Just so people can see how perfect you two are."

There are probably going to be people who recognize them as criminals back from the leviathan days, and there'll be others who think that they look remarkably like Dean Winchester and Castiel from the  _Supernatural_ books, but what the Hell, this woman thinks they're perfect, so why not?

Dean looks to Cas and raises his eyebrows to ask if he's okay with it, and of course Cas nods (and blushes a little from the flattery), and the woman is pretty excited to take a picture. She doesn't tell them what to do for it, so Dean makes an impulse decision and leans over, puts his arms around Cas's shoulders, and kisses him firmly on the cheek until the camera beeps.

She shows them the picture afterwards—Dean's profile is perfect and Cas has the most awkward, beautiful smile and a flushed face. Then the woman thanks them and leaves them to their hot chocolate, and they can both agree that was one of the strangest and best experiences they've ever had.

"That's going to be all over the internet soon enough, you know," Cas tells him over a sip of hot chocolate.

Dean chuckles and squints a little. "What makes you think so?"

"Because we're two beautiful men, and, well, I've been on Tumblr once or twice."

It's such a laugh-worthy moment that Dean doesn't—all he does is smile and think of how in a few months, people will be looking at that picture and thinking that it's the cutest thing they've ever seen, and they won't have any idea that one of the men in the picture is dead.

* * *

Five months, and Dean has to take his meds more often than before, but he's still fully functional when he's taken the medicine properly. Somewhere in Arkansas, he thinks he's found the best apple pie yet, but there's  _still_ something missing that he just can't put his finger on.

And he'll probably have to refrain from eating pie for a couple days or else his stomach won't be able to take it. So he and Cas take another few days to lounge around in one town, and they coincidentally spend a great deal of their time in their motel room.

"Why have we not had sex yet?" Dean asks one evening, softer and blunter than intended. He's not even really sure whether or not he meant to say it, but the curiosity's just been building in him for a while, and he wants to know, and he wants to see where this question can lead.

Cas seems surprised for a moment, but then not so much. Like it was a completely normal question. He locks gazes with Dean and inhales deeply.

"I always just figured that I would wait until you were ready," Cas says, tilting his head, for a second making Dean forget that he's not an angel anymore. "And for a while I wasn't, either, so—"

"Neither was I," Dean tells him, shifting slightly—though a bit desperately?—closer to him on the bed. "But—now I am, and I didn't want to do anything until you were ready, and—I... are you?" He swallows, and his throat feels dry until Castiel nods. Somewhat hesitantly, it seems, but the consent is there. And Dean still waits for Cas to get closer and press their lips, their  _bodies_ , together, and make them both tumble down on the bed.

They come together seamlessly and neither of them can really believe how easy it is to make the transition from no-below-the-belt-touching to Dean sliding his hands up through Cas's shirt, Cas getting his knees on either side of Dean's thighs, their chests almost touching and their breathing already hard and fast because of how deep their kissing is.

"I love you, you know that, right?" Dean whispers eventually, his voice only choked because of the lack of air he's been taking in. His hand is on the back of Cas's neck and holding him so that their foreheads are together, and the other as at his lower back.

" _Yes_ ," Cas breathes, and the "I love you too, so much" that comes out of his mouth as he peppers Dean's face with kisses is enough to make Dean feel like his life is complete.

They pull off each other's clothes and whisper sweet, meaningful things to each other as they're left shirtless and touching each other all over. Cas wants to kiss every part of Dean that he can reach, but once he gets Dean's pants off he gets more restricted in his touches, and he hesitates somewhat in grinding against him. When Dean whines involuntarily into Cas's mouth and pulls him tighter by his ass, his eyes jolt open and he looks scared.

"It's okay, Cas," Dean reassures him softly, seeming to realize what he's thinking. "I mean, unless you don't want to do it—"

"No, I do, it's just—" Cas cuts himself off and gives him an apologetic look. "When I touch you, I feel like I'm going to break you. And I can't, Dean... I—"

" _Cas_." Dean pushes himself upward on his elbows and frowns sadly to match him. "I'm not not going to break, you don't have to treat me like glass just because—"

"You have  _cancer_ , Dean," he moans through his teeth, but it feels like he's screaming in his head, and now he feels like crying. But he doesn't. He holds it back. "You're gone in three months and we're having sex for the first time and how can I  _not_  treat you like glass, I just don't want to hurt you—"

"But I'm not gone yet!" Dean nearly yells, and in a way that's not angry so much as it is passionate and just a bit sad. Cas can hear the tears choking up his voice. "I'm here, Cas, and I just want to forget about all that—can't we just forget about that for one night, please?" His voice gets considerably softer as he tries not to cry, too. "I just want to make something beautiful with you. Please."

Both of Dean's hands clutch Cas's face, and they fall back onto the bed as Cas silently agrees with kisses and the pressing of their hearts straight together.

When Cas's fingers, slick with motel lotion (it was the best they could get on short notice) get inside him at Dean's instruction, he moans louder than he thinks he ever has in his life.

Neither of them can keep from crying, just a little bit, while they make love for the first time, and they barely feel ashamed of it because it's beautiful and tragic. And once Cas is collapsed on top of him, Dean feels like he could die right now and wouldn't care.

* * *

They have a month left when Dean is going through too much pain for the medication to work entirely, but he keeps fighting through it like the soldier he is and hides it well enough that Cas almost doesn't find out how much he hurts. But when he does, he breaks into a hospital to get him stronger morphine to help him, just a bit longer.

He would be admitting Dean into a hospital right now if he didn't know how much Dean doesn't want that—Dean hates hospitals, and he most certainly doesn't want to die in one.

"I have three apple pie recipes that are the best I've ever had, and I can't decide between them," Dean tells him, sounding weak but like he's trying his hardest to stay strong. He's still walking around and acting like nothing is wrong with him, and like the only thing he's concerned about with his depleting time left is finding the perfect apple pie.

"We'll keep looking," Cas assures him, rubbing his back softly and treating him like glass. He's truly afraid to break him, at this point.

He stands up and gets Dean more morphine from their bag.

The owners of the diners they stop at seem to be able to tell that Dean isn't healthy, and they take pity on him when he asks if they can buy their recipe off of them. He can tell that it's pity, though, and so he's always angry once they're back in the car.

Dean still insists on driving, which Cas is okay with as long as he has lots of morphine in his system. And besides, if he crashes, he'll likely kill both of them. It would be an instant death, so Cas doesn't think it would be so bad.

They don't talk about it, and Cas waits until Dean's not looking to cry because he doesn't want Dean's last weeks on earth to be filled with memories of him crying.

It's too difficult not to, though, when Dean stops the car on the side of the road, turns to him, and stutters out, "C-Cas... I can't remember when we met. I... I was just trying to think about it—and I  _can't_. The whole scene in my head is just  _gone_." He sounds scared—he's far more scared of forgetting Cas than dying, and Cas can hear it, and then it's like the tears he's been holding back for weeks just come spilling out all at once.

He cries and tells Dean in explicit detail everything that happened the day that they met—and then another time, to make sure he remembers for now. And Dean wipes away both of their tears with his jacket sleeve, kisses him deeply, and feels satisfied enough for now to start driving again.

Dean starts asking Cas about details of his life fairly often—not just parts of their relationship, but things about Sam, too. And Bobby. And once, even, "Do you remember anything about my mom?"

Cas spends his time telling Dean stories, telling him about everything that he's forgotten in an effort to make him re-remember them. Even things that he hasn't forgotten yet, just so Dean can relive them and at least remember what Cas tells him if he forgets the actual event. He does anything and everything he can to make sure that Dean doesn't forget. And Dean's doing that, too.

There's a week left until the eight-month mark, and Dean is still driving. Cas still doesn't tell him that he needs rest, he just keeps giving him more morphine—but then Dean finally relinquishes his driver's seat because he's really starting to lose his eyesight. He can barely see the road anymore. His only hope is that he doesn't go completely blind before he dies because he wants the last thing he sees to be Cas and Sam.

It's not surprising that Dean has made it thus far—Cas knows that he's a soldier, and he's known all along that Dean would try to fight it until the very last second. But he doesn't know whether he hates it that Dean's making himself suffer or if he's immensely happy that Dean's trying to spend as much time as possible with him.

On the very last day of the eight months that Dean is supposed to survive, he finally requests a death bed.

"I think it's about time I lay down and die, Cas," is how he tells him, his voice hoarse but still in a joking manner and with a smile that breaks Cas's heart. So he nods and turns the car around straight for Lawrence, which they're luckily not even a day's drive from.

They show up at the bunker in the middle of the night, and Sam is there because Cas called him and told him what's going on (he was previously at a girlfriend's apartment). Dean insists that he doesn't need any help getting into bed—he just wants to do this  _one_  last thing by himself, and the only thing he takes off is his shoes and jacket. There's no way in Hell that he's putting on some hospital gown.

"Did you, uh. Find the perfect apple pie?" Sam coughs out, feeling awkward and terribly sad asking that question but also honest-to-God curious. He wants to know if his brother is happy with how he's spent his last days.

"Nearly," Dean says from the bed, his smile half-proud and half a grimace. "We've got a few of the best recipes in America, but none of them are quite  _perfect_."

Sam looks to Cas, who looks like a man who has lost everything and accepted it. He feels like the man deserves more time with Dean—Sam's had his whole life with his brother, and Cas has just had about six years. And he feels sorrier for Cas than he does for himself, or for Dean.

"Are you disappointed?" Sam asks, walking up to stand next to the bed, swallowing. His throat feels thick with every memory he's ever had with his brother.

At once, Dean's eyes go to Cas, who's standing on the other side of the bed. "No. Not really."

* * *

He seems to be lasting the week, and while that should be making Sam and Cas hopeful, every day that Dean survives is filled with fear. Every time he goes to sleep, they're afraid he won't wake up again. They don't know how long they can handle that for.

Cas stays by his bed every night, and, by Dean's insistence, gets into bed with him and holds him. The only thing keeping him from doing that on his own is that he doesn't want to wake up to a dead man in his arms.

There's barely a single second that Dean is alone. Either Sam or Cas (or both) is with him every moment of the day, and he's extremely grateful for that. He doesn't have to ask them explicitly for them to continue to not be all mopey around him—they do it to keep him happy, even if he does know exactly how broken they both are on the inside.

The thing is, Dean's on his last ounce of strength, and the morphine just isn't working enough. He's in a lot of pain, and he's not good at hiding it anymore. Cas wakes up to Dean panting and crying and trying his hardest to contain the pain in his head, and it shatters him over and over again to see him hurt like this. When Sam sees it, he has to remind himself that there's nothing he can do, and he has to tether himself back and just bring Dean some water and soft food and morphine and hope that he'll stop suffering soon.

He and Cas make an agreement near the end of the week that they don't want Dean to go out in excruciating pain. It's sad, and it's horrible, and Cas hates himself for it, but he would hate himself worse if he didn't do it.

During Sam's few hours with Dean on the next day, Cas picks one of the apple pie recipes and slaves away in the kitchen with the ingredients that Sam went out and bought. He surprisingly turned out to not be horrible at cooking after becoming human, so it looks extremely edible when he's done.

It kills him to take the needle of euthanasia that he stole from the hospital months ago and inject it into a slice of the pie, but he manages to compose himself somewhat as he brings it into the next room.

"Dean, I think I have the perfect apple pie," he tells him, as clear as he can make his voice, and maintaining a small smile as much as he can. Sam remains sitting on the right side of the bed but stiffens extremely, and Dean sits up a bit.

"Really?" Even now, he sounds hopeful. Even though he can barely force his eyes to look straight at Cas.

Cas sits down and nods, setting the plate down in his lap before leaning down and kissing Dean gently. He accepts it with a soft sigh, as though it's actually taking his pain—and really, it kind of is.

As Cas lifts up the plate, Dean looks between him and the pie, and it looks like he knows exactly what's going on. And he  _does_ , he knows, and he's okay with it. And that's in his eyes for Cas to see, too. He doesn't want to suffer or make Sam and Cas suffer anymore.

Dean nods, and Cas's hands shake as he feeds him the pie, forkful by forkful. Sam is sitting on the other side of the bed and no longer trying not to cry, and Cas is only trying not to cry because he wants the last thing Dean sees to be him smiling.

Dean's smile starts going lax before the slice of apple pie is finished, and Cas only feeds him one more bite before setting the plate down hastily and reaching out to hold Dean's face. Dean uses his remaining seconds before his brain shuts down completely to look to Sam, who just nods through his tears, and then back to Cas. He tries to reach out for him in return but just can't muster the strength.

"Thank you," is all he manages to say, and the way he smiles and blinks tears out before his eyes shut for good says  _"I love you."_

Castiel is still holding Dean minutes later, cradling him in both arms and with Dean's forehead pressing into his cheek. Sam has seen his brother die too many times to feel the need to throw himself over him anymore—especially since this time was just about as peaceful as a death can possibly be. And he wants to let Cas have his time to cry this out.

They give him a hunter's funeral because even though it's been nearly two years since they gave that up, that's what Dean is at his core—a hunter—and because they don't want him turning into a malevolent spirit.

Sam and Cas both do their fair share of crying on each other because there's no one else alive who cares enough to cry over Dean, and they just cry until there's nothing left of them to cry out. When they return to the bunker, it feels empty.

"He wants you to keep living, you know," Sam tells him to fill the silence. Cas just looks up at him. "He wants both of us to live. He told me that, a few days ago. He said that I better not dare let you kill yourself over him."

There's another considerable silence between them until Cas finally breaks it. "Kind of selfish of him, isn't it?"

Sam, he understands. Sam has a girlfriend and new friends who care about him. But Cas has nothing but Dean, and now Dean is gone. He cares about Sam, too, but Dean was everything.

Castiel doesn't know how long he can obey Dean's request for, but he tries. He lives as normally as he can and, every night, he stares up at the sky or the ceiling and prays to Dean Winchester.

And he thinks of his greatest accomplishment as helping Dean find the perfect apple pie.

**Author's Note:**

> I always feel especially cruel after writing this sort of thing. 
> 
> If you're crying your eyes out then I've done my job.
> 
> More recommended listening: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7OV8k4qf9Y


End file.
